


the words i might have ate

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band), SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Romance, established jurishin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Sometimes the kouhai are smarter than the senpai.





	the words i might have ate

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for trope bingo (curtainfic).

The ugliest piece of fabric in the entire store—possibly the entire country—is shoved into Tamamori’s face, followed by Miyata’s bright grin. “What do you think about this one?”

“I think my apartment would be louder than a junior concert if I put _that_ in my windows,” Tamamori says honestly. “It would be like announcing ‘a Johnny lives here!’ to the entire neighborhood.”

Miyata just laughs and returns the curtains to the rack. “Just making sure you’re paying attention. But your furniture is all solids, so a pattern would be good, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Tamamori mutters. “That’s why I brought you.”

They both know that’s a crock of shit, since Tamamori has more fashion sense in his pinky finger than Miyata does in his entire body; Tamamori just hadn’t wanted to deal with picking out curtains. That’s girl stuff, he’d argued to his mother, who had promptly suggested that her oldest son enlist Miyata-kun to help decorate his new apartment. Since the extent of Tamamori’s interior decorating is buying matching furniture from Ikea (and paying his little brother to put it together), perhaps her advice is warranted.

And bless him, Miyata shows him a dozen more possibilities before he huffs at Tamamori’s upturned nose. “You have to have _something_ , Tama-chan,” Miyata tells him. “You don’t want to accidentally flash anyone. Again.”

“You can stop bringing that up anytime,” Tamamori says pointedly, but Miyata just smiles at him. “Fine, get whatever you think looks good. I don’t care; I don’t have to look at them that much.”

That’s a lie, too, especially now that he actually has a drama season off without any concerts or other time-consuming obligations. Tamamori has spent more time at his apartment in the past couple weeks than he has since he’d first moved in. Already he’s getting stir-crazy, as his mother puts it, though Tamamori will argue that he just enjoys living in a clean home.

He only twitches a little bit when the cart is full of plaid and stars (separately, at least), but he just takes the items up to the checkout of the family-owned craft store and pulls out his wallet. The little old lady at the register smiles warmly at them, actively participating in Miyata’s small talk that mostly consists of how useless Tamamori is at picking out curtains, and Tamamori tolerates it until the lady implies that they live together.

“It’s just me,” Tamamori interrupts bluntly. “He doesn’t live there.”

Both the cashier and Miyata give him a sympathetic look and Tamamori has no idea why. He just pays and lets Miyata carry the bag, naturally falling into step with him as they make the short journey back to Tamamori’s apartment.

Putting up curtains is a two-man job, but all Tamamori has to do is stand there and be tall while Miyata does all of the work. Miyata doesn’t mind, like always; he seems to enjoy doing this kind of stuff, anyway. Tamamori doesn’t, so it works in his favor to humor Miyata’s domestic whims. As long as it doesn’t look too ugly, Tamamori lets him do whatever he wants.

“Didn’t you say you were going to gather some old clothes for Jesse-kun?” Miyata asks when they put up the last valence. Tamamori has to admit that the star pattern looks nice in his bedroom, something pleasant to look at before he goes to sleep every night.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to move anymore,” Tamamori says, flopping onto his perfectly made bed and trying not to wrinkle it too much. He’d just learned how to do hospital corners from Yokoo, and he was pretty damn proud of them.

“I can do it, if you want,” Miyata offers, already disappearing into Tamamori’s walk-in closet that’s almost as big as his actual bedroom. “I know what you wear the most.”

“That’s creepy,” Tamamori tells him, but he makes no effort to get up and stop him. “It’s weird that Jesse and I are the same size when he’s taller than me.”

“His torso is longer,” Miyata calls out from deep in the closet, and Tamamori rolls his eyes. At least Miyata is creepy with everyone, not just him. “I’ll just make a pile and then you can go through them, okay?”

“Whatever.”

Tamamori closes his eyes and ends up taking an impromptu nap; when he wakes, he’s buried in neatly-folded clothes and Miyata’s playing on his laptop. It was Miyata’s voice that had roused him, actually, the stupid noises that imitate the beeping background music and gratuitous ‘hi-yah!’ calls the game makes.

“Noisy,” Tamamori grumbles, and Miyata spins around to flash him another grin. “How long was I out?”

“Just under an hour,” Miyata replies. “Your sleeping face is so cute that I just couldn’t wake you.”

“Creepy,” Tamamori says again, focusing his eyes open enough to scan the items Miyata had chosen for kouhai donations. “These are fine. Thanks.”

“No problem.” The bed dips with Miyata’s weight, a few piles cleared away to make room for him. “Did I do well?”

Tamamori rolls his eyes. “You require more praise than a dog,” he grumbles. “Yes, you did well.”

He’d known it was coming, but he still jumps when Miyata leans over to press their lips together. “Yay~”

It’s far from the first time they’ve kissed, but Tamamori’s mind still spins the same as years ago, and he’s the one to actively wrap his arms around Miyata and pull the other man closer. He’s cold.

*

When Tamamori meets up with Jesse to hand down the clothes as promised, the taller man isn’t alone.

“Wow, you got huge,” Tamamori blurts out. “Aren’t you only sixteen?”

Morimoto Shintaro gives him a lopsided grin and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I’m taller than my brother!”

“That’s not saying much,” Jesse inputs. “Juri is taller than your brother.”

Shintaro’s face makes a weird expression at the mention of Juri. “Juri’s still taller than me when we’re not lying down.”

“Too much information,” Jesse teases, but Shintaro just gives him a weird look.

Tamamori feels an odd sense of deja vu and shakes it off. His mother says the sixth sense runs in their family, but Tamamori’s never gotten it to work right. He always feels things after the fact, which defeats the whole purpose.

“I’m hungry,” Tamamori says. “Do you two want to go out to lunch? My treat.”

The kouhai nod and Tamamori swells with pride. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of playing senpai, even if Jesse and Shintaro eat enough for a large family between the two of them and there’s no longer any doubt in Tamamori’s mind how they both grew so much.

Jesse has to bow out after the meal for work, but Shintaro hangs around and Tamamori doesn’t mind the company. When he stops to think about it, Shintaro reminds Tamamori a lot of himself, often thrown into the spotlight and just expected to know what to do. They’re both good at winging it, at least, or more likely the fans don’t care that they seem to look lost more often than not. It works for them, anyway.

They chat amiably about work and their families for a while, falling easily into conversation despite their age difference. Kisumai has sadly drifted away from the Shounen Club cast since their debut, and it’s nice to hear about what’s going on with everyone. Not much has changed, Tamamori learns—pranks still run rampant and scandalous happenings are caught behind the costume racks, just by different culprits now. The only similarity between then and now is that Yasui is usually involved in both.

“So how long have you and Miyata-senpai been together?” Shintaro asks out of the clear blue, shocking Tamamori enough to make him choke on his drink. “Oh, were you trying to keep it a secret? No offense, senpai, but you’re both really bad at hiding it.”

Tamamori blinks down at Shintaro’s big, innocent eyes and tries not to gape. “We are _not_ together!” he explodes, feeling his cheeks heat up. “We’re just really close.”

“Like how close?” Shintaro asks, more curious than vindictive, and that’s the only reason Tamamori relaxes and unruffles his feathers.

“I don’t know, we just do everything together,” Tamamori mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest as they sit on a park bench. Shintaro had wanted ice cream, because he really is a child inside of that grown-up body. He dutifully eats his hot fudge sundae while continuing to look at Tamamori expectantly, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “My mother calls us two peas in a pod, though it’s always him that shoves us in there together.”

He wrinkles his nose at his own analogy while Shintaro just looks confused. “How do you know the difference, then?”

“What?” Tamamori replies, taken off guard. They’re probably the last two people in the world who should be having this conversation, because Tamamori doesn’t know anymore than Shintaro does despite being seven years older. “The difference between what?”

“You know.” Shintaro shoves another giant spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, then cringes at the inevitable brain freeze. “The difference between being friends and being boyfriends.”

Tamamori thinks about that, as much as he doesn’t want to relate it to his own personal experience, because his precious kouhai wants advice and for whatever reason came to him for it. “It’s doing stuff, isn’t it?” he blurts out, suddenly wondering if he should censor the specifics. Shintaro has an older brother; clearly he would know how it works.

“Sex stuff?” Shintaro asks bluntly, and Tamamori just nods. “But friends do that, too.”

“What kind of friends do you have?!” Tamamori exclaims, only moderately traumatized. He was a junior once, too, after all. In an agency such as theirs, one’s sexual experience comes purely from whoever wants to experiment _with_ them. Not as young as Shintaro, though, or at least not in Tamamori’s group. Miyata didn’t touch him until he was eighteen (but then he never stopped).

“Juri says he likes me,” Shintaro blurts out. “He keeps trying to hold my hand. It’s weird.”

Tamamori relates to that more than he wants to, since it’s basically he and Miyata from five years ago reincarnated. “Do you like him?” he asks, figuring he’d get the easy questions out of the way.

“Yes, of course.” Shintaro suddenly looks serious, like this is a matter relating to his career or something important that affects the rest of his life. “He’s fun and smart and doesn’t treat me like a kid.”

“You _are_ a kid,” Tamamori points out, and Shintaro just rolls his eyes. “Well, you are! When I was sixteen, my only worry was standing up on my skates.”

“You still have to worry about that, don’t you?” Shintaro jokes, grinning at Tamamori’s snort. “At any rate, we keep going places together and he pays for everything, but it doesn’t feel like a date. It’s just Juri. You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tamamori replies. He knows all too well. “Can you talk to him about it?”

“I _have_ ,” Shintaro whines, and Tamamori can see how frustrated he is. “But they’re my feelings I need to figure out, you know? Maybe they haven’t developed yet or something. I don’t know what to do. If it’s love, you should know, right?”

“I…” Tamamori opens and closes his mouth a few times, at a loss of words. He probably looks really dumb, but he can’t focus on Shintaro’s problem without comparing it with him and Miyata and he doesn’t like the results he’s getting. “I can’t answer that,” he finally says.

Shintaro huffs. “Senpai are supposed to know everything. Especially you, who is in the same situation!”

“Am I?” Tamamori thinks out loud, remembering all of the times Miyata had dragged him out against his will or even just imposed on his home time. It’s different than anything he’s done with any other member, and he’s slept in Kitayama’s bed before. Even kissing Miyata feels different than back when he’d first gotten taller and other people wanted to touch him. Miyata didn’t like that too much, Tamamori remembers, and suddenly everyone left him alone. Everyone but Miyata.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Shintaro comments, and Tamamori blinks.

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Tamamori says. He kind of feels like he’s just seen a ghost, except it’s a psychological ghost that keeps metaphorically hovering in front of his face. An annoying one with a big nose. “Do you want to be with other people?” he asks suddenly.

Shintaro frowns as he thinks about that. “Not like I am with Juri. It feels like something I should do only with him.”

Tamamori smiles despite himself. “I think you have yourself a boyfriend, then.”

“Huh.” Shintaro folds his arms and nods. “Okay.”

 _And so do I_ , Tamamori’s voice resounds in his own head as he gives up trying to wave away the ghost and just embraces it.

*

“Hey,” Tamamori says the next time Miyata invites himself over. “Come here.”

Miyata eyes Tamamori, because he’s already sitting on the next couch cushion. “But I am here.”

“Ugh.” Tamamori leans against the back of the couch, trying to look inviting, but Miyata just stares at him. “Do the thing already!”

“What thing?” Miyata asks, then leans over to place his hand on Tamamori’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tamamori grabs the arm that’s in front of him and yanks Miyata halfway into his lap, yelping when Miyata knees him in the gut and squeaks right in his ear. “I feel fine,” he snaps. “Now do the thing.”

“Tama-chan,” Miyata says slowly, and Tamamori can tell he’s caught on by the sly smirk that spreads on his face. “Are you trying to get me to kiss you?”

“Yes!” Tamamori exclaims. “You always just did it before. Now do it before I lose the mood.”

Miyata’s mouth is on his so fast that Tamamori’s breath hitches, those familiar lips moving slowly as Tamamori grabs onto Miyata’s waist and pulls him even closer. Miyata’s gasp sounds better when Tamamori can feel it, Miyata’s skin hot under his fingers when Tamamori slides his hands up the back of Miyata’s shirt.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you,” Miyata whispers between kisses, “but I like it.”

“Stupid kouhai,” Tamamori mumbles. “Too grown up for their age.”

If Miyata has anything to say to that, he doesn’t voice it, just licks his way into Tamamori’s mouth and swallows the low groan he pulls from Tamamori’s throat. The temperature skyrockets and Tamamori can’t get out of his clothes fast enough, grumbling and tugging pointedly at his shirt until Miyata takes the hint and pulls it off. The next time he stops to breathe, he’s on his back with Miyata straddling his lap, only their underwear separating rock-hard erections that rub together when Tamamori rocks up desperately.

“Fucking do something,” Tamamori whines when Miyata doesn’t take charge like he usually does. “I want you, dammit.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that,” Miyata breathes into his neck, hands all over Tamamori’s chest like he has eight of them. His touch leaves little pools of heat in their wakes, making Tamamori squirm all over. “I’m so happy.”

“Shut up, I let you do this all the time.” Tamamori huffs, shoving Miyata’s underwear down to wrap a hand around his cock. “ _Miyacchiiiiiii_.”

“What?” Miyata asks softly, kissing his way back up to Tamamori’s mouth. “What do you want?”

“I already said it!” Tamamori pouts into their kiss. “I want _you_.”

“I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” Miyata moans particularly nicely when Tamamori gives him a pointed squeeze. “But _how_ do you want me?”

“Well, um.” Tamamori shifts nervously underneath Miyata; they don’t actually _talk_ about these things a lot. “Usually you do it to me, which is good I guess, but I really like feeling you on top of me like this.”

Miyata hums knowingly, reaching down to coil his fingers around Tamamori’s length as well, and Tamamori’s so desperate for it that he snaps his hips up into the friction. “Damn, you gonna do that while I ride you?”

All Tamamori can do is groan, which is more consent than he would give in words. He grabs onto Miyata’s hips, wonderfully bare, and curses the necessary preparation for this kind of sex. “You have something, right?”

“I wasn’t expecting to—” Miyata starts, but one look from Tamamori has him halting with a gulp. “Yeah, just a sec.”

It really only takes a second for Miyata to reach down into his pants pocket, but it’s enough for Tamamori to get cold. He whines again, snatching the small bottle from Miyata the instant he returns to the couch. “Get down here.”

Miyata complies immediately, hovering enough for Tamamori to shove his hand between them, and Tamamori rather likes the way Miyata arches like a cat when he starts to stretch him. He can’t recall doing it this way in years, since Miyata’s always the one who initiates it and Tamamori is content to just lie there and let Miyata have his way with him, but this time is different. It _feels_ different, his conversation with that brat playing back in his mind as he watches Miyata fall apart on top of him.

He likes it, god does he like it, knowing he can affect Miyata this way, that Miyata will only look like this for him. He’s always accepted Miyata’s unconditional feelings for that reason alone, because it makes him feel good to be someone’s most important person, even if it’s that guy. But now that’s not all it is.

He thinks Miyata might just be his most important person, too. The revelation has him touching Miyata more gently, leaning up to press their mouths together and muffle Miyata’s whimpers as he pushes in another finger. Miyata’s pushing back against them now, arms trembling as he holds himself up, and Tamamori rubs his hip soothingly with his free hand for some sort of comfort.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata gasps out, and suddenly Tamamori doesn’t like the way that sounds anymore.

“Use my first name,” he demands, meeting Miyata’s wide eyes when he blinks them open. “Toshiya.”

All these years and Tamamori’s never addressed him like this, the foreign word rolling off his tongue. It leaves a weird tingling that intensifies when Miyata breathes against his lips, “Yuuta.”

That’s better. That’s a lot better, for both of them as Miyata relaxes enough for a third finger. Miyata’s already got a hand around Tamamori’s cock, stroking him slowly under the pretense of lubing him up, thumbing the head in the way that drives Tamamori crazy.

“Miya—Toshiya, stop,” Tamamori gasps, and Miyata pulls back to give him a confused look. “Just…too much.”

“You gonna make it?” Miyata asks, half concerned and half mocking, though he pulls his hand away. “It would be a shame if you didn’t, since you made me want it so badly.”

“Oh yeah?” Tamamori kisses down to Miyata’s neck, inhaling the cologne he’d gotten Miyata for his last birthday. If he doesn’t want Miyata to smell like a flower garden, he has to buy the shit himself. “Show me.”

“Yuuta,” Miyata says, falling easily into the habit of using Tamamori’s first name, and Tamamori wonders how many creepy fantasies he’s had where he’s called him that way. “You’re different tonight.”

“I just…” Tamamori bites his lip as Miyata looks down at him with those soft eyes, and damn he really is good looking aside from that giant nose. Tamamori doesn’t even mind the nose, actually. He’s gotten used to it by now. “Can’t you just read my mind?!”

Miyata looks like he wants to laugh and cry at the same time, but all he does is reach back to tug on Tamamori’s wrist. “I can’t do this with you still doing that.”

“Oh.” Sheepishly Tamamori pulls his fingers away, though both hands migrate to Miyata’s hips on instinct. He watches as Miyata sits down on his cock, both of them hissing at the pressure, and his eyes flick up to Miyata once he’s fully buried. “You okay? You look like it hurts.”

“I’m fine,” Miyata replies, flashing a smile that’s weirdly out of place as he leans back and starts to roll his hips. Tamamori can’t stop the groans from coming out with each exhale, his own hips rocking up to make Miyata bounce a little, and his only regret is that he’s too loud to hear Miyata’s soft noises, the ones that are usually pressed into his neck as Miyata clings to him from above.

Instead Miyata is completely drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his face, and Tamamori’s never seen anything hotter. He grabs onto Miyata harder and bucks up more sharply, pulling more defined noises from Miyata’s lungs and making him really bounce. Both of Miyata’s hands grab onto Tamamori’s forearms for balance, the pair of them managing to establish a rhythm that lasts until Miyata moans out Tamamori’s first name and Tamamori loses his mind.

“You look so good right now,” Miyata’s voice mixes in with the heavy breaths and groans. “Are you close? You can let go if you want, wanna watch you lose it.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Tamamori whines, and Miyata just chuckles because Tamamori moves faster, guiding Miyata until the latter takes over and really rides him. “Oh, fuck, Toshi, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” Miyata says, the last thing Tamamori hears before his world goes white and fuzzy. He still feels Miyata around him, on top of him, moving until Tamamori hisses and claws at his hips to stop. Miyata stops but doesn’t move, his body continuing to squeeze around Tamamori and take him higher.

Tamamori tries to push him off, but to no avail. “ _Move_.”

“Not yet,” Miyata replies, his voice so breathy that Tamamori squirms beneath him. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

“Don’t you want me to get you off?” Tamamori asks impatiently, cursing at the effort needed to speak. “I can’t blow you like this. I’m not that bendy.”

“I just…” Miyata pauses long enough for Tamamori to force open his eyes, finding Miyata’s closed while his lips are pressed together like he’s concentrating really hard. “I like the way it feels with your come inside me.”

“Gross,” Tamamori mutters, but he can’t manage to scrunch up his face in disgust. All mess aside, it’s kind of nice to hear that Miyata enjoys that. He tugs on Miyata’s hips and this time it works, pulling Miyata to the side enough to roll over on top of him, shivering at the obscene noise Miyata makes that’s undoubtedly from Tamamori pulling out.

“Yuuta,” Miyata whispers, blinking up at Tamamori who’s leaning over him. “I like the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tamamori tells him, breaking eye contact when Miyata starts grinning. He kisses his way down Miyata’s chest instead, ears straining for those faint noises as he settles between Miyata’s legs and takes Miyata’s cock into his mouth.

This shouldn’t be as familiar as it is, but he seems to know exactly how Miyata likes it, licking underneath the head and tightening his lips about midway down the shaft. Miyata arches and laces his fingers through Tamamori’s hair, getting a little rough when Tamamori takes him all the way in and swallows around him. “Yuuta…slow down.”

If Tamamori wasn’t otherwise indisposed, he would roll his eyes and tell Miyata to come already, but instead he just speeds up and ignores the persistent tugs on his hair. He knows exactly what to do to make Miyata fall apart, pleased when he pulls back enough to suck on the head and Miyata’s thighs start trembling beneath him. Now Miyata’s fingers are twisting in his hair, his noises encouraging, and Tamamori takes a garbled version of his first name as a sign that he’s about to come.

Tamamori makes a face as he swallows, but it’s easier than the alternative considering the last effort he makes is flopping his head onto Miyata’s stomach. He rises and falls with Miyata’s desperate breaths, eyes fluttering shut as Miyata’s fingers continue to stroke his hair, his heartbeat gradually calming down.

“Don’t go home,” Tamamori blurts out when Miyata starts to get dressed, eyeballing his sweat-soaked shirt. “Just bring your clothes here so you don’t have to keep leaving. It’s annoying.”

Miyata kneels back onto the bed, looking down at Tamamori with soft eyes. “Are you asking me to move in with you, Yuuta?”

“What? No.” Tamamori huffs, reaching out to pull Miyata back down onto the couch because it’s weird to have him so far away. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know what those kids said to you, but I am going to buy them all dinner,” Miyata says seriously, and Tamamori frowns.

“My kouhai,” he grumbles. “I’ll be the one buying them dinner.”

“We can do it together,” Miyata suggests, and Tamamori’s noncommittal grunt is good enough of an agreement.

*

“Getting domestic, huh?” Jesse teases Tamamori the next time they meet up. “Honestly, I thought you two were already married and just keeping it a secret.”

“Married?” Tamamori makes a face. “Don’t be gross.”

“Whatever.” Jesse tears into his hamburger like a wild animal ripping open its prey, then turns to the boy next to him. “Since when are you left-handed?”

Shintaro shakily picks up a fry and barely manages to get it into his mouth. “Shut up.”

On his other side, Juri grins and nudges Shintaro with his shoulder, their hands obviously entwined under the table. It’s cute, Tamamori thinks, at least until Miyata squeezes in next to him and gives him an inconspicuous poke in the side. They may be out to the rest of the agency, but they’re still in public.

“Eat as much as you want,” Miyata tells the kouhai happily. “I am in your debt.”

“I don’t know what I did, but okay,” Shintaro readily agrees, nearly knocking over his drink when he goes to reach for it; Jesse grabs it just in time and sets it upright without interrupting his eating stride. “If anything, I should be thanking Tamamori-senpai.”

“Oh really?” Miyata asks, entirely too interested in this information. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Tamamori jumps in, but Shintaro is louder.

“He told me that love is when you don’t want to be with anyone else, just that one person.”

There’s a surprising lack of movement next to Tamamori at those words, concerning him enough to glance to the side. Miyata’s face looks really shocked, his expression gradually relaxing into a subdued smile. Tamamori is confused until he notices Miyata bite his lip, then figures out what’s happening here.

“Please don’t cry,” Tamamori tells him. “We’re in public and people will think I’m mean to you.”

“You are mean to me,” Miyata replies with a choked laugh. “That’s why I love you.”

“Aww,” Juri and Shintaro chorus (Jesse is still stuffing his face). “Senpai are cute,” Shintaro adds.

“Shut up,” Tamamori growls at them, but now he’s the one reaching for Miyata’s hand under the table. He only squeezes it once, long enough to enjoy the warmth of Miyata’s palm before retracting, but it’s enough to make him feel a bunch of dumb things he doesn’t want to say out loud.

Luckily, Miyata already knows.

“Fifth wheel present,” Jesse announces in the brief pause between his burger and fries.

“Bring Hokku next time, then,” Juri teases, and Shintaro gasps scandalously.

“Hokuto and I are not together,” Jesse informs them. “We are far too young to be tied down like that.”

Tamamori remembers certain interactions on the set of Pintokona and begs to differ, but he keeps his opinion to himself. He knows better than anyone that nobody can make you admit your feelings until you realize them for yourself, after all. Even if Tamamori himself has yet to admit them, and Miyata just finished hooking up all of his game consoles to Tamamori’s entertainment center last night.

“Thank you, senpai, for everything,” Juri says on their way out. Tamamori starts to reply until he notices that the younger man is addressing Miyata. “I hope we’re as happy as you are someday.”

“Just let him go at his own pace, and you’ll be fine,” Miyata whispers, and Tamamori pretends not to hear him. “You can’t change anyone, you know. All you can do is love them as they are.”

They stop at the market on their way home, where Tamamori questions everything Miyata puts in the cart, though he doesn’t complain when Miyata ties on an apron and cooks for him that night. It’s the weirdest shit that draws Tamamori to him, but he’s used to it by now. If it’s Miyata, it should be weird, right? Sometimes that’s the only thing that makes sense in Tamamori’s world.

Tamamori had been concerned about the size of his bed and his preference for sleep space, but he’s the one who ends up pressing against Miyata’s back because the man is a human heater. More often than not he ends up with Miyata’s hair in his face, arm slung around Miyata’s waist because it’s just more comfortable that way, and he’s never, ever cold.

“I love you, too,” Miyata whispers, and Tamamori just scowls into the back of his neck, squeezing him tighter.


End file.
